


Faking It

by facetofcathy



Series: 2008 Kink Bingo Blackout [8]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Roleplay/AU (Master/Slave)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-26
Updated: 2008-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-03 19:29:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facetofcathy/pseuds/facetofcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yet more weird off-world customs lead to some unanticipated results.  This skirts the edges of AMTDI, but there is no doubt about consent here in my mind.  Your interpretation is your own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faking It

Rodney came out of the adjoining bathroom wearing the clothes provided by their hosts.  John was trying to get the complicated braided leather belt/corset thing that was supposed to criss-cross about six times from chest to hips to stay in place over Ronon's robes.  Ronon had managed to belt John into his in a lot less time.  It felt weird and sort of cool, constricting and comfortable both.  The leather straps turned the simple off-white linen-like robes into something vaguely Japanese looking and made Ronon look sort of scholarly.  The sandals that went with the robes had their own set of leather straps that wound up bare legs past the knee.  John had just spent an embarrassing eternity on his knees, fumbling around under Ronon's robe helping to tie them so they'd stay up.  Luckily Rodney had grabbed his bundle of clothes, disappeared into the bathroom and stayed there for a very long time, so there were no witnesses.  John had heard splashing and possibly singing and tried not to be annoyed at the lack of help or to admit that feeling up Ronon's legs turned him on.

"You guys should see that bathroom.  These people have definitely mastered running water.  Obviously they're sensualists of the highest order, oh hey, you guys got different clothes than me."  Rodney sounded disappointed.

John finished tying off the leather corset thingy, and he turned around and got a look at Rodney.  "Jesus fuck."

Rodney's outfit consisted of a pair of loose pants in some slinky shiny material that looked like it should be see-through.  They were dyed a deep crimson and sat so low on Rodney's hips that the swell of his ass was clearly visible when he turned around.  Rodney's shoes were simple black slippers – no leather straps in sight.

"McKay, didn't that, that costume, come with a belt?" John asked.

Rodney actually shook his ass in answer.  "No, no belt.  The pants won't fall off though; I tested that thoroughly."

"You were in there all that time, getting into that?"  John was hoping if he kept asking facile questions he'd hold off the urge to find out just how slinky that material would feel under his hand.

"Took a bath.  Which since I get to spend the evening shirtless, you two should thank me for.  Now before we wander off to this all-night party we've been invited to, does someone want to tell me why you two look like Greek-Arabian Samurai and I look like a, ah-"

"Harem boy?" John suggested.

"You had to go there didn't you.  But yes, harem boy.  Ronon?  You had a nice long conversation with the sword wielding guards earlier, learn anything?"

"Yeah they think you're Sheppard's slave, or maybe mine - it was hard to tell.  Mostly we talked about swords." Ronon was tugging his robes straight and not really paying attention.

"And by slave you mean…," Rodney prompted.

"Don't worry, McKay, you don't have to fuck in public.  I made sure of that."

"Thoughtful."

"Rodney, you seem awfully calm about this." John clasped his hands firmly behind his back.

"Oh I had a nice panic attack in the bathroom earlier when I saw this get up.  I consoled myself with the fact that there are no cameras here, and well, I assumed you guys would have the same outfits.  Seemed like that might be compensation for the trauma.  Those robe things are strangely attractive though.  Also the bathroom is so obviously bastardized Ancient Tech that making nice with these people seems like a really good idea, so what exactly do I have to do at this party other than not fuck anyone?"

"There's entertainment in the centre of the hall, and food is brought around.  The slaves just serve their masters.  One of the guards said the whole thing is a chance for the nobility to show off their slaves to each other, but nobody does anything more in public than what you guys would call making-out." Ronon shrugged.

"Um, okay.  I don't think that's going to happen.  We'll just have to stay here and, shit I wish Teyla were here."  John started pacing.

"Don't be an idiot, Colonel.  We're here, we're ah, just going to have to go with the flow.  This is by no means the most difficult thing I've done in the name of potential ZPMs." Rodney looked very un-slave like standing with his hands on his hips and glowering.

"If you don't want to do stuff with McKay in public, that's cool.  He can serve me.  We'll just fake it for the other stuff.  No problem."  Ronon looked unconcerned.

John thought about Ronon's choice of words.  He'd been foolishly thinking Ronon didn't know he like to do stuff with McKay in private.

"And by serve you mean…," Rodney prompted.

"You just have to bring me food and stuff."

"See, Colonel.  It'll be fine.  You just look stoic and above it all and I'll feed Ronon grapes.  No problem.  Come on let's go.  I want to get a look at the water system in this building tomorrow so one of you make nice with the right people."

They were escorted to their assigned alcove in the party room, or feast hall, or whatever it was called.  The padded benches were comfortable with walls that were high enough to provide privacy from their neighbours, but their every move was visible to the opposite side of the room where the local leaders were all sitting.  John assumed their placement was not accidental.  They needed to put on a reasonably good show for the people they wanted to get favours from in the morning.

Rodney bitched long but quietly when he realized that he had to sit on the floor.  Then the food was served, and he realized his place gave him first dibs and total control over what John and Ronon got, so he shut right up.  He passed tiny morsels to John, slightly larger bits to Ronon and hogged all the good stuff for himself.  "This slave gig isn't so bad after all," he said around a mouthful of something sticky and sweet.

The food remnants were removed, and the centre of the room filled with dancers and musicians.  Wine jugs started making the rounds.  Rodney was busy doing a taste comparison of the red and white wine and didn't notice the other slaves abandoning the floor for their master's laps.  John was looking around, trying to look inscrutable and likely failing.  He was certain he'd seen a few hands disappear under robes or down the front of the harem pants the slaves all wore.  The head honcho across the room was frowning at them.  "Uh, Rodney," John said.

Rodney looked up and took in the scene.  "Good Lord."

"Come on, McKay.  Time to put on a show."  Ronon reached down and pulled Rodney up into his lap.

Rodney had maintained his hold on his wine cup during his relocation.  He downed the contents, tossed the cup over his shoulder and said, "That wine is fantastic.  Let's make this look good, maybe they'll trade us some."

Rodney threaded his fingers into Ronon's dreads and pulled his head down.  John couldn't tell at first if they were really kissing or not, but Ronon's hand had most definitely wandered down to land on Rodney's ass.  John banged his head into the wall behind him.  He was going to die.  He was going to die of blue balls and then go to hell.  He'd been achingly hard since he'd got a look at Rodney in those pants.  The intervening eternity of watching him crawl around on the floor, not to mention the feeding by hand thing, hadn't helped.  John felt around on the floor for the wine jug.  Maybe the locals' attitudes stretched to accepting public drunkenness.  Rodney moaned loudly beside him when Ronon ran his nails down his bare back.

John had given up the drunk plan and had decided to simply embrace voyeurism as a lifestyle.  He was so horny and frustrated he couldn't remember why he'd refused to participate in this little scene in the first place.  He was pretty sure Ronon had seen through all his illusions a long time ago.  Rodney had shifted around to straddle Ronon who was holding him up with a big hand on each ass cheek.  Rodney had dreads in both hands and their mouths looked permanently fused together.  Except they weren't, because every so often Ronon broke away to bite at Rodney's neck while Rodney made some of the loudest and most obscene moans John had ever heard, and John thought he'd heard all of Rodney's sex noises.  John was drinking straight from the wine jug; maybe he was a drunk as well as a confirmed voyeur. 

John was watching Ronon kneading Rodney's ass with both hands while tongue fucking his mouth.  Rodney tried to pull his mouth away but Ronon slid one hand up and forced his head still.  John decided the rules he broke privately all the time were going to get broken publicly for once.  He got one hand on Rodney's arm and pulled.  Rodney let out a yelp and then Ronon was boosting him over to John.  John got both hands around him and shifted his squirming mass until he was sprawled across John's lap, feet still on Ronon's knee.  John slid one hand slowly down the skin of Rodney's back until he encountered the silky stuff covering his ass.  John dug his fingers in hard in the same place Ronon's hands had just been.  Rodney moaned at him, and John dove into his open mouth.  John kept Rodney's mouth busy and let his hands roam over all the skin and slinky red fabric he could reach.  He broke away long enough to breathe and saw Ronon watching intently and rubbing one hand rhythmically over Rodney's silk-clad leg.

A flurry of motion dragged his attention away from Rodney's mouth, and John saw that the leadership of planet kinky was calling it a night.  One big muscled guy, the chief of the guard John thought, stood up and carried his slave bodily from the room.  Ronon grinned evilly at that and stood, grabbing Rodney's arm to throw him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.  "Come on, Sheppard," he said.  "Lets get back to the room before my nuts explode."

John swayed back to their room watching the curve of Rodney's ass bouncing on Ronon's shoulder.  Rodney was amusing himself by trying to lift up Ronon's robe as he rode upside down.  He'd succeeded by the time they found their room and celebrated by pinching Ronon on the swell of his ass.  Ronon retaliated by dumping him onto the bed. 

Rodney laughed at them both while they fought with the leather ties on their robes.  Eventually, they both worked free and pulled the robes over their heads.  "Nice bondage sandals.  We really need to take these outfits back with us.  Also, my jaw hurts worse than it did when I defended my first thesis from having my tonsils examined for over an hour, and my ass hurts from sitting on that damn floor, so don't expect me to do anything about that."  He waved his hand dismissively at what John considered a pair of impressive erections.

John looked at Ronon, who looked back speculatively.  "Not going to take much," Ronon said to him. 

"Yeah, you know what a sixty-nine is?"

"Uh-huh.  Move over, McKay."  Ronon shoved Rodney over and flopped down on the bed on his side. 

John followed him down and with a minimum of shifting around he had Ronon's mouth on his cock.  He let out one choked off moan before he got busy himself. 

Rodney called out a complaint from behind Ronon's bulk.  "What about me?"

Ronon pulled his mouth free long enough to snap, "You got hands, McKay, use 'em." 

Ronon put his mouth back where John wanted it, and soon enough they were each swallowing bitter fluid while trying not to thrust too hard into the other's mouth.  John amused himself licking Ronon clean until the noises coming from the other side of the bed penetrated his post-coital fog.  He remembered his new career as a voyeur and struggled to sit up where he could see the action.  Rodney was jerking himself off slowly, hand stroking lightly.  He still had the silky red pants on and was gripping his cock through the fabric.  John tapped Ronon on the ass and pointed.  Ronon struggled upright, and they both watched. 

Rodney cracked one eye open and saw them watching.  "This feels fantastic.  I'm never taking these pants off." 

John spent a moment imagining Rodney as the harem boy of Atlantis, scampering around the labs in those pants.  Then he leaned forward and ran his hands up the slippery fabric covering Rodney's legs.  Rodney spread his legs in invitation and John fit his hands over Rodney's balls.  The silky material pulled taut over hot flesh, and John squeezed gently.  Rodney moaned and sped up his strokes.  Ronon looked at John.  John grinned at him and tilted his chin towards Rodney's chest.  "Nipples," he said.

Ronon's lips curved into a smile, and he bent his head to Rodney's chest. 

"Feel free to use your teeth," John said.

John woke up with a hangover and a criss-cross of dents on his legs from sleeping in the sandals.  Rodney was busy in the sybaritic bathroom washing the stains out of his new pants.  Ronon was dressed in his usual gear waiting, not very patiently, by the door.  Their robes with their long leather ties had vanished.

They finished the mission that afternoon with a deal for several barrels of wine, no ZPMs and Rodney's pants, now clean and dry, tucked in the bottom of his pack.

"So, Ronon," John said as they dialled the gate, "any plans tonight?" 


End file.
